


i'm feeling love, i feel alive

by endofadream



Series: taking this one step at a time [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky is a soft nostalgic Daddy, Daddy Kink, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Slight feminization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:15:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22423177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endofadream/pseuds/endofadream
Summary: Even from here Bucky can see that Steve’s eyes are dark, that his chest rises and falls a little faster than normal.Spurred on by this visceral reaction Bucky finally asks, “How would you feel about jerking off next to Daddy?”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: taking this one step at a time [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1221425
Comments: 30
Kudos: 390





	i'm feeling love, i feel alive

**Author's Note:**

> soft daddy bucky is back, folks :)

“Do you remember,” Bucky begins, “the first time we jerked off together?”

Steve, who is in the middle of loading the dishwasher, nearly drops the plate in his hand. He sets it on the counter and turns around, assessing Bucky’s face for a few moments with that stoic look of his before replying, “Like I could forget.” An eyebrow raise. “Why?”

Bucky draws his lower lip between his teeth and leans against the back of the sofa, crossing his arms over his chest.

He asks only because the memory came back to him a week ago and he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it since: how beautiful Steve’s skin had looked in the yellow light of the lamp, shadows thrown at the sharp curve of ribs and hipbones, and how he’d stifled his noises with his teeth in the meat of his palm, prompting Bucky to do the same; how their legs tangled right before they came—Steve first, then Bucky; and how Bucky hadn’t quite been able to mask his shout when that pleasure had ripped through him with a nuclear-like intensity.

Sex had still been new to them then, and that day they could hardly bear to wait until they were safely in their apartment, curtains drawn against the warm glow of the afternoon as Bucky had stripped Steve down, taking his time to kiss every bared inch of skin.

Their bodies were still very much their own, far from the shared, memorized knowledge they possess of each other’s now. Bucky had still been learning what the hollow of Steve’s throat tasted like; Steve didn’t know yet that biting the groove of Bucky’s hip made him shiver with pleasure.

He would give anything to go back to the days before war ate them up and spit them back out; when they would hide in alleys and stairwells and steal kisses and touches where no one could see, so lost in the rose-colored tint of their world that nothing else mattered. He had been foolishly cocky, an idiot twenty-something absolutely sure nothing bad would ever happen as long as they played it safe.

“I was thinking,” he says after a pause, “that we haven’t really done anything like that since the war.”

The subject tastes sour to both of them, like dirt and blood and gunpowder and so much lost time. Like hands over mouths and faces buried in unsteady cots and orgasms too quick to really be anything other than getting the edge off and reminding each other that they were alive. Bucky blinks, casts his eyes down, and then looks up.

The light from their floor-to-ceiling windows catch Steve’s floppy golden hair and make him gleam like the sun. Even from here Bucky can see that Steve’s eyes are dark, that his chest rises and falls a little faster than normal.

Spurred on by this visceral reaction Bucky finally asks, “How would you feel about jerking off next to Daddy?”

Steve’s pupils fully blow.

They’ve played around quite a few times since Steve’s mid-sex confession, trying it in so many different ways that Bucky’s lost count, but he still doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of how Steve’s deep timbre goes breathy and wrecked when shaped around that word. It unlocks something in Steve that makes him go pliant, makes him amenable and sweet in ways he never can be otherwise, as prickly as he is with his spitfire temper.

“You,” tries Steve, voice cracking slightly. He clears his throat and swallows hard. “Would you...tell me what to do?”

God, he blushes so fuckin’ pretty, Bucky thinks. Pink like the late-summer sunsets they would catch from the rusted iron of their fire escape. It runs like wildfire from his face down to the breadth of his chest, same as it always has. Bucky doesn’t even need to look under Steve’s shirt to know.

Smiling, he says, “Of course, baby boy. Whatever you need.”

“Oh,” breathes Steve, quiet, like it’s escaped without him really knowing he’s said it. If he’s already getting into that headspace then Bucky can believe it: his sweet little Stevie can be so unaware when he gets like this, and Bucky wants to eat him  _ alive _ , wants to kiss and lick and mark every single inch of Steve’s perfect body.

“What do you say, sugar?” he asks when the silence stretches.

Steve looks up at Bucky through his lashes, catching his lower lip between his teeth, before nodding shyly. When he speaks his voice is small and unsure and so unlike his usual strong baritone. “Please, Daddy. I-I wanna.”

They’d had plans today to go to the farmer’s market in Union Square—Bucky is a prissy little shit and likes his organics, sue him—but he doesn’t really feel bad at all about derailing it when he straightens and Steve’s eyes immediately follow the movement. In his chest, his heart already begins to beat a little faster.

“C’mere,” Bucky says, and Steve does, letting Bucky’s arms enfold him, his own wrapping around Bucky’s waist. Like this, Steve’s shoulders slump, softening the hard lines of his body, making himself smaller in the most unconscious of ways. If Bucky wasn’t already ten different kinds of in love with Steve he’d fall even harder. Maybe he does anyway, who knows. Every time Steve looks at him it’s like that first scary-thrilling slide all over again, and Bucky has never been able to get enough. He’s got regrets, but Steve Rogers has never been one of them.

He lets fingers both flesh and metal trail up and down the broad expanse of Steve’s back, feeling the softness of the shirt under his flesh and the faint pressure under the metal. He lets that metal hand slide up, over the bumps of Steve’s spine, and into the short strands of hair at the nape of his neck. Curving his palm around the back of Steve’s skull leaves Steve shivering and exhaling deeply before burying his face in the slope of Bucky’s neck.

“Let’s get to the bedroom, hm?” Bucky asks softly, rubbing his thumb over the hollow behind Steve’s ear. Steve nods, nonverbal, and Bucky bites back his smile. He slides his hands down to Steve’s ass, the only warning Steve gets before Bucky is hoisting him up like a stacked, two-hundred-pound clingy kitten.

“Christ,” murmurs Steve dazedly. He wraps his arms around Bucky’s neck, presses his forehead against his shoulder. “You’re so strong. Don’t know how I forget it.”

“Don’t know how you could,” replies Bucky, only a little breathless as he carries Steve across the threshold to their bedroom. “Considering just last night I was holdin’ down all ten million of your jacked-as-shit muscles and fucking you through the mattress.”

“Maybe I just need you to remind me,” Steve says, smiling crookedly as Bucky gently lays him on the bed and climbs on top of him, skimming touches over him everywhere he can as he brackets Steve’s hips with his thighs.

Chuckling, Bucky strokes his flesh thumb over Steve’s forehead, down the high arch of his cheekbone. “You little brat. That’s not why we’re here, is it?”

Never one for self-preservation, either outside the bedroom or in, Steve quips, “It could be.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow.

Steve quickly backpedals and says, “Sorry, Daddy.”

“That’s what I thought.” Bucky strokes back Steve’s hair, traces the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. Sitting back, Bucky lets his hand trail down over the twin swells of Steve’s tits and the hard ridges of his abs until he gets to the hem of Steve’s t-shirt. Tugging lightly, Bucky asks, “Now, how about we get this off?”

Quick to comply, Steve has his shirt over his head and thrown somewhere across the room before Bucky’s even moved to lie next to him; when he does Bucky lets his eyes linger on the pretty pink of Steve’s nipples, already peaked and tight with arousal. It doesn’t take a lot to get Steve going, not since the serum, and Bucky should be used to it by now, but sometimes the marvel of it captures him again.

They’d spent years with Steve’s body not wanting to cooperate some days no matter how much he tried; to have this seems like something two sinners like them shouldn’t get. Like maybe Bucky’s gonna wake up in another pup tent, or on another operating table with his veins on fire…

No. He takes a deep breath and grounds himself, finding tangible things to focus on. The warmth of Steve beside him. The faint scent of the laundry detergent on the sheets. The slow burn of arousal working its way through his body.

“Buck?”

Steve’s looking at him with unmasked concern, breaking the scene for a second. Bucky shakes his head and rolls over onto his side, offering Steve a small, genuine smile. He’s fine, he’s okay. He’s here with the love of his life and he’s safe. “It’s okay. Just got a little caught up, that’s all.” He reaches out and thumbs over the swell of Steve’s supple lower lip. “You’re such a good boy for me, you know that? I’m so lucky to have you. Pants now too, sweetheart. Let Daddy see what you’ve got on underneath.”

Bucky is damn well aware that Steve  _ knows _ he knows what underwear Steve is wearing, but the statement still makes Steve’s breath hitch regardless as he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans, pausing before sliding them both towards the button.

The rise of his cock grows more prominent as he gets closer, and Bucky watches the progression with lust coiling tighter and tighter at the base of his spine until he feels like he may finally snap.

Steve is slow in working the button free, even slower easing the zipper down. Each  _ snick _ of the teeth makes Bucky itch to reach out and take control, yank Steve’s jeans and shorts down and get his mouth on that thick cock, plans be damned. But no, he wants this— _ they _ want this. Stilling the urge he touches himself instead, squeezing the hard line of his cock through his jeans and groaning at the way it stokes the heat low in his belly with a gentle breath.

It doesn’t escape Steve’s attention. His eyes dart over and he whimpers, high in his throat, desperate. He isn’t slow anymore about tugging the flaps of his jeans open and pushing them down his thick thighs, but Bucky doesn’t find himself really missing that once they’re gone and Steve’s legs are crooked at the knee and spread wide.

Steve’s always been a white briefs guy, something the twenty-first century and its extensive list of men’s underwear hasn’t changed a bit. And Bucky is absolutely, one hundred  _ percent, _ not at  _ all _ complaining about it. Especially not when Steve is straining at the thin cotton, a small patch gone gray where the swollen head of his cock is already leaking pre-come.

Giving himself another slow stroke over his jeans, Bucky says, “Look at you, sweet boy. So worked up already, so goddamn  _ wet _ and I haven’t even let you touch yourself.”

Steve sucks in a sharp breath and tips his head back against the pillows. The mattress creaks under his heels where he digs them in.

“Daddy,” he begs. He slides his hand under Bucky’s shirt, broad palm spread over the rise and fall of Bucky’s ribs. The touch scatters gooseflesh. “You now.  _ Please _ , Daddy, I wanna see you.”

God, it’s surreal sometimes. This strong, imposing man with the set jaw and squared shoulders when he faces the world—to have him reduced to soft edges and soft words stretched thin on a whine is thrilling. Bucky thrives on this, preens that he’s the only one who will ever get to see Steve Rogers so willingly vulnerable.

Bucky curls his hand around Steve’s wrist, giving it a squeeze, and Steve brings his hand to rest it on his thigh. Kissing the slope of his shoulder in reward Bucky says, “Who am I to deny my sweet boy when he asks so nicely?”

He lifts up enough to tug his shirt off, tossing it towards the end of the bed before laying back down. He knows it’s not what Steve wants, not entirely, but he can’t resist teasing.

When he looks over, sure enough, Steve is pouting. He pointedly glances down at Bucky’s jeans and says, “ _ Everything _ . Please?”

In response Bucky drags his hands over his chest, rubbing his palms over his nipples to feel that bright spark. Steve follows the movement greedily, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip.

“Mm,” Bucky says, “I don’t know if you’ve earned that yet. Why don’t you touch yourself for Daddy? Give me a little show before I decide what to do.”

Steve hesitates, just for a second, and moves the hand on his thigh to the bulge of his cock in his briefs. The touch has him letting out a quiet noise, not so much a moan as an exhalation. When he squeezes he makes that noise again and it spirals straight to Bucky’s core.

“That’s it, baby,” he praises, unable to resist rubbing himself over his jeans. The pleasure washes over him slow, like a warm tide; he basks in it, moaning softly when his cock jerks against his palm. “You’re so gorgeous like this. C’mon, rub your sweet little cock for your daddy. Show him how much you want it.”

“God,” Steve breathes, all hesitation evaporating as he gets a good grip on himself through his shorts and works over the hard length of his cock. “ _ Ah _ —oh  _ god _ , I wanna see you so bad, Daddy.” He runs his palm over the swollen head of his cock and moans louder, unashamed, abs clenching as he arches.

“Take yourself out,” orders Bucky, making quick work of the button and zipper of his jeans. Leaving them open he drags his flesh hand up his torso and pinches one nipple between his thumb and forefinger, then the other, rolling them until his breathing shortens and the pleasure begins to edge into sharp-sweet pain.

Steve shoves the waistband of his shorts under his balls, his cock slapping against his belly. The sight of it—thick and flushed, foreskin retracted from the slick, smooth head as pre-come drips onto the heaving dips of muscle—leaves Bucky nearly cross-eyed with lust. His baby’s cock is just as perfect as the rest of him, and he’ll go to his damn grave swearing it.

He says, “That’s it,” extra sweet, as he drags his thumb over the leaking head of his own cock. Grunts, adds, “Show Daddy how you touch yourself. Make it real good.”

He turns his head to watch, lower lip between his teeth. Steve’s always been impatient in bed, always been eager to prove; when he wraps his hand around his cock and gives himself a fast, tight stroke he lets out a moan that has Bucky’s dick twitching in his boxer-briefs with the obvious show of it. He pauses briefly to spit into his hand, like that serum-enhanced dick of his doesn’t begin to leak like a goddamn faucet two minutes after it gets fully hard.

Still, Steve is a goddamn sight, bicep flexing and pretty tits heaving as he begins to jerk himself in earnest. He digs his head back into the pillow as he arches, mouth falling slack and eyes shut tight, his face a beautiful mask of pleasure. The pink tip of his cock gleams in the circle of his fist on every sweeping stroke down, pre-come bubbling up thick to pool in the web of his thumb before sliding down his fist. With his left hand Steve reaches between his legs to tug on his tight, heavy balls, and fuck,  _ fuck _ , Bucky can’t do this anymore.

Finally giving up his self-control, Bucky strips off his own underwear and takes himself in hand with a moan of relief. His dick throbs in his tight grip, like it’s chastising him for making it wait. There are some things worth waiting for, Bucky would remind it. Like Steve’s throat bobbing as he moans, “ _ Daddy, _ ” as if it’s the last word he’ll ever say

Bucky scoots closer, tangles their legs just like they used to do. Steve tips his head to the side to look at Bucky, and Bucky uses his free hand to tug Steve into a sloppy kiss that’s more intermingled breaths in the hot caverns of their mouths than it is anything else. Underneath Bucky’s fingers the back of Steve’s neck is damp with sweat, the fine hairs there plastered to his skin.

Steve’s thigh trembles against his own, the thick muscle tensing and relaxing in turn as Steve keeps up the pace of his hand on his cock. Bucky matches it, heart pounding in his ears, mind foggy with hindbrain lust.

“Daddy,” Steve whimpers, and Bucky kisses him deeper, nipping at his full lower lip before sliding his tongue into his mouth.

“You look so fuckin’ good, sweet boy,” Bucky murmurs, kissing along Steve’s jaw, rubbing his tits and toying with his nipples with his left hand. He can feel the rabbit race of Steve’s heartbeat under his palm, can feel the ragged rise and fall of his chest. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

Steve nods jerkily, tipping his head back to groan, low and long. Bucky’s own cock jerks in his grip again, and he feels the steady rise of orgasm build in the way his balls draw up tighter, the way the base of his spine feels molten.

“Yeah,” husks Steve. The bed shakes underneath them with their combined frantic movements, and Bucky presses his forehead to the hard line of Steve’s clavicle to watch, his own hand slower, savoring the throb of arousal that peaks and ebbs as he loosens the grip of his fist. Steve’s broken breaths are loud in Bucky’s ear, the low rumble of his voice even louder as he says, “Please—Daddy, please. Can I come?”

Bucky noses at the line of Steve’s neck, tasting the sharpness of his sweat as he places open-mouthed kisses. His own cock drools in his fist, and he knows he won’t last much longer, not like this. The lewd slick sound of flesh on flesh makes him achy and unfocused, running on pure animal instinct.

He murmurs, “You’ve been so sweet, honey. God, you looked so good stroking that pretty cock for me. So goddamn pretty, baby, don’t know how I got so lucky to have you.” Against his belly pre-come pools, slick and clear, his breaths shortening the closer he gets.

Steve cuts his eyes down, so dark they’re practically black. Darts his tongue out, wetting lips gone dry, and asks again: “Please, Daddy, let me come.”

Bucky nods, swallows hard, saying, “Yeah—yeah, come for Daddy, sweetheart, lemme see it.”

Like a button was pressed Steve arches, thighs clenching as his cock twitches in his hand, come shooting up to his neck, down the valley between his tits, spilling thick and white over his knuckles. His abs clench and unclench, his grunts low as he squeezes the base of his cock. He whimpers once, sharp, back arched as he pants, “T-thank you, Daddy,  _ oh god _ —”

Bucky’s always weak when it comes to Steve, and his own orgasm catches him by surprise, grabbing him white-hot and intense as it steals over him. He’s moaning Steve’s name, he thinks, he can’t be sure. Come spills hot up his belly, over his fingers; he works himself until oversensitivity hits him sharply and he twitches, grunting his he tips his head back to stare up at the ceiling

Their thighs are still entwined, and if Bucky closes his eyes he can almost imagine that it’s that day from 1937 again. It comes to him in its sepia tones, sweetly preserved, but when the mattress creaks and drips and Steve places his big hand on Bucky’s chest, right over his heart, it evaporates. Bucky opens his eyes and meet Steve’s, offering him a smile where Steve is looming over him, flushed and sweaty and fucking  _ real _ . “Sure beats the memory I had,” he says, and he pulls Steve down for a kiss.

“You don’t gotta rely on those anymore, Buck,” replies Steve, tucking Bucky’s hair behind his ear. His smile is beautifully crooked. “I’m right here.”

“Ain’t going nowhere?” Bucky has to ask.

Steve’s grin grows from crooked to shyly impish when he says, “Never, Daddy. You’re stuck with me forever.”

“Lucky me,” teases Bucky, flipping them quickly to straddle Steve’s hips, the mess on both of them forgotten. “Guess I’ll just have to make the most of it then.”

Steve laughs, full-bellied, and Bucky wonders if it’s possible to fall in love over and over again, every single day of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr is [here](http://endofadream.tumblr.com) if, y'know, you're into that sort of thing, same with [instagram](http://instagram.com/wintersoldiered) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/copperinsides)! reviews appreciated and help me write more! i love talking about my work with y’all :)


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